


you are the thunder (and i am the lightning)

by SpaceWaffleHouseTM



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben is a nerd, College Student Rey (Star Wars), F/M, Flashbacks, Geography Mentions Abound, No Pregnancy, Non-Linear Narrative, Professor Ben Solo, Shameless Smut, Smut, Storms, Teacher-Student Relationship, Thunderstorms, kind of, many times, they break the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27033700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWaffleHouseTM/pseuds/SpaceWaffleHouseTM
Summary: Rey is a student at university when the campus is forced to close due to a terrible impending storm. Unlike her friends, she's got no family to return to and doesn't know where she'll end up until Professor Solo offers to let her crash at his place
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 94
Kudos: 674
Collections: Central Perk (Reylo) Fuckery, Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts), Reyloween 2020





	1. The Calm

**Author's Note:**

> SO not the thing I usually write friends so mind the tags but there's really not much going on here aside from basic ole smut. Tis a simple affair. Don't try this at home.

His hands brace against the counter behind her, granite digging into the curve of her ass as she slides up onto it, her legs wrapping around his to pull him closer. It’s dark, impossibly dark and cold, and save for the occasional flashes of lightning that fill the room, she can’t see anything, not even him.

The power had gone out twenty minutes ago, right before he’d kissed her for the first time against his bookshelf, the spines of books belonging to Dickens, Austen, Orwell, and more witness to the first and hopefully only illicit affair she’d ever be party to in her life. Of course, they aren’t witnessing too much now that it’s dark, but that’s probably a good thing.

No one, not even a silly little book, should be watching her screw her professor.

Hands tangling in his hair, she waits for another flash of lightning to show her where he is, then as the ensuing thunder rolls overhead, she kisses him again, a deep, low moan rumbles in his chest, reverberating in hers in the form of shivers down her spine. He feels _incredible_ , his lips fit with hers like they were tailor-made, and though this is a sin of the highest order and definitely not something she should be doing ever, it feels more right than anything has in her entire life.

“Rey,” he whispers against her lips, her name spoken like a prayer before she shushes him, pulling him back to her as the kiss intensifies, her head falling back against the wall as he makes it spin.

There can be no talking right now. If they talk, they might wake up and realize what they’re doing, they might realize they’re making a mistake. She doesn’t think he’ll send her back out into the Storm he’s sheltering her from, but it’ll sure as hell be awkward if they pull back now.

Yet the way he’s kissing her suggests a different story. His lips are soft, tender, and there’s something shockingly sweet and affectionate about the way Ben Solo kisses. The hands on her hips come up gently beneath her sweatshirt, begging permission to take it off, but as his fingers glide over the soft skin of her abdomen, she senses how gentle it is. Everything about him is so gentle and kind, and she knows that even if they pulled back now, he wouldn’t let it become an awkward nightmare.

There’s still time for them to pull back, actually. They haven’t crossed anything obscene yet, but she wants to. _Dear god_ does she want to.

She’s wanted to ever since he walked up to her at the library earlier, his hair all missed from his hands running through it and a sheepish smile on his face—like he’s a high schooler asking a girl out for the first time—and asked her if she was going to make it home okay. Well, truth be told, she’s wanted to since he walked up to the front of the lecture hall on the first day of class and announced that he would be their professor for the next four months.

One of Ben’s hands successfully reaches the clasp of her bralette beneath the sweatshirt, and as the clasp comes undone, she leans into him, moaning at the press of his erection against the apex of her thighs. The shirt is lifted over her head a second later, her bralette following shortly thereafter. There’s not much he can see in the dark, but another well timed lightning strike pierces the darkness and makes her well aware of his eyes on her chest.

Only half a second passes, but we can see a mixture of satisfaction and awe part his lips, his hands once again coming to rest on her waist as if he’s decided that covering her breasts would be a crime. Perhaps in his eyes it is, but he seems to change his mind fairly quickly, for not a second later he begins to press kisses on the skin of her chest, sinking lower and lower until he reaches the peak of her nipple, hardened by the cold.

The rain and thunder roar outside, masking the moan she gives that sounds out his name. It makes her lose her grip on reality, feeling his teeth scrape it ever so softly, makes her question everything she knows including her name.

But most of all, it makes her wonder how the hell she got here in the first place.

*

The rain starts about five minutes after she gets to the library. At first, she considers this lucky. It means she won’t have to worry about walking around in it until the library closes at two in the morning, and odds are the rain will stop long before then.

Of course, as she sits down, the lightning strikes begin. It starts as just vague flashes in the distance, maybe even heat lightning without the rumbles of thunder, but it slowly grows and grows until each thunderclap shakes the ground, prohibiting concentration entirely.

And it shows no sign of letting up. By midnight, she’s gotten minimal studying done, and she’s worried that she’ll have to walk all the way back to her apartment in what must be a low grade hurricane. Fear overtakes her ability to focus on the material, her eyes glued to the window outside. This is going to be hell, isn’t it?

She’s about to start texting everyone she knows, asking someone, _anyone_ if they can give her a ride, when for the first time since she got to the library earlier, her attention is stolen by something other than the raging storm outside. “Rey?” a deep voice asks, and her head turns to see the familiar face of her geography professor.

Hilariously enough, that’s the class she’s studying for.

“Professor?” She’s not sure why she says it like a question. She knows damn well who he is and he has every right to be here—especially given that he’s a grad student and really only a few years ahead of her—but she’s surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He laughs shyly, running his hand through his hair the way she’s always noticed he does when he feels awkward. Good to know the feeling is mutual. “Working on stuff for an urban planning class… kind of didn’t mean to stay this late.” His gaze flickers to the window nearby, both of them wincing as a thunderclap shakes the ground. “Storm kind of cinched my plans.”

“I know what you mean, I’m in the same boat. My apartment is two miles away and I rode a bike to get here.” As he winces, she manages a nervous chuckle. “I’m supposed to be studying for _your_ test tomorrow, but I’m not having any luck.”

Dimples grow on his cheeks as he smiles, then he gestures to the seat waiting across from her. There’s four at the table, but everyone knows the unspoken rule of the library—no sitting at the same table as someone else unless invited. He’s waiting for an invitation, one she gladly gives, simply grateful to have a distraction from all the hell that’s raging outside. “Thanks.”

“No problem, it’s nice to have something to look at other than the storm.”

“I figure maybe I can help you if there’s something you’re not getting. I know I’m technically off the clock, but I could help you study, if you want.”

Rey’s eyes flicker between him and the notes she’s laid out before herself, the index cards pleading for use in her closed hands. “Okay. And maybe I can help you in return.”

The smile on his face grows wider. “Perfect.”

*

Once he’s done with her nipple, Ben moves on to the other one, his fingers replacing his mouth on the one he’d just abandoned as her hands fist his hair so tightly she knows it must hurt. “God, Ben…”

It’s surreal, what he’s doing to her, how quikly it all unfolded. Not that she minds, this is one of the best moments of her entire life. This man feels like he was made to fit with her, like he’s always been intended for this purpose, and she finds herself completely lost.

She’s so gone, in fact, that when he pulls away from her chest and lifts her from the counter, she doesn’t even register she’s being moved through the air until she feels his lips mutter something against her neck. “What?”

“Can I take you to bed?” he asks, his voice sounding sheepish as he pulls back, lightning illuminating the shimmer of gold that shines in his irises. Fuck, had that always been there? How had she not noticed it before? “Rey?”

 _Shit_. Had she really been so distracted that she couldn’t register him asking her if he could take her to bed? Is she really that far gone? Apparently, she is. A moment later, she gathers herself, managing a nod before she leans forward and starts kissing him again, living for the way his hands tighten their grip on her body as he guides her further into his house.

Vaguely, she registers the feeling of being carried upstairs, his steps vibrating through her body in time with the rhythm of his lips against hers. All the while, his hands never waiver in their ability to hold her. One has drifted up, supporting her back, but the other remains firm on her ass, both clutching her tightly as if she’s the most precious thing he’s ever held.

Her hands slide down from his hair, reaching for the buttons of his shirt before she begins undoing them in a messy, fumbling line. The first one gives easily, but the second one is a little harder. It takes her all the way until they reach the top of the stairs to get the second one, causing him to laugh against her lips as she then makes way on the third. “Shut up,” she mutters, then the third one comes undone like magic, her fingers shifting through the rest like butter.

By the time Ben kicks open a door, his shirt is completely unbuttoned, leaving her hands free to slide it from his shoulders, the fabric rustling as he guides her over to what she presumes to be a bed. She can feel the jolt of his shins hitting the mattress, a shriek leaving her a second later when he drops them both onto the bed, crawling over her before he begins to remove his shirt.

His legs are straddling her thighs as he shucks the shirt off into the abyss. She can’t see shit, only his silhouette, but then lightning, always a convenient tool, illuminates him for a fraction of a second and she feels dizzy.

Professor Solo is built like one of those statues of greek gods. In the brief flash the lightning gives her, she can see well-sculpted muscles, both on his chest and his arms, and god, does he have some beautiful arms. Her heart begins to race as she looks at him, then as the light flickers away, he settles over her again, kissing her cheek before his arms hold onto her wrists, pinning them above her head just before the next lightning bolt strikes, and she shivers.

The intensity of his gaze is almost overwhelming. Stars fill her vision as his hands reach down, fingertips brushing gently over her breasts before they make their way down to the waistline of her pants. “We need to get these off,” he murmurs softly, then the tips of his index and middle fingers on each hand begin to dig beneath the fabric.

Giving him another nod, she sighs as he begins to peel her pants—and underwear—from her legs, dragging them down, down, down as thunder shakes them both, but she’s fairly certain that isn’t the only reason she’s quivering.

*

“Okay, this one’s basic, ready?” her professor asks, smirking slightly as he holds up another index card.

Snorting her amusement, she props her head upon her elbow, leaning over the table as she gestures for him to continue. “Hit me.”

His cheeks flush pink, then he sighs. “This scale measures the intensity of a tornado by a combination of windspeed and damage.”

Oh, that really was easy, wasn’t it? “That’s the fucking Fujita scale.”

One of his eyebrows lifts, then he snorts. “Are you planning to put that on the test? I’m pretty sure the department would kick my ass if you did.”

“Oh, come on, I’d be a legend,” she protests, reaching across the space between them to grab the card out of his hand. At first, she only grabs the card, but then his hand shifts at the last second, and her fingers wrap around his as she latches onto it.

Their eyes meet instantly, both a little frightened but also intrigued. His hand is warm, as if he’s just held it in front of a fire, and it sets a fever beneath her skin that leaves her blushing, her cheeks growing a shade of crimson that makes his blush from earlier look like nothing. She can fucking _feel_ it.

For several seconds too many, they remain there like that. Frozen, as if neither of them can comprehend the idea of moving, almost as if out of fear that if they move they may never touch again. Why she likes touching him so much, holding onto him, keeping him close, she has no idea. She’s always thought he was a handsome man, but it isn’t until now, when his hand is closed around hers and he’s holding it, that she realizes she wants more.

Before she can say anything, he pulls away, leaving her with the card in her hand and a stunned look on her face as he reaches for the next one. “Sorry about that,” he mutters.

“It’s fine.” And oh, it is, it really is, she’s perfectly content with the idea of his hand holding hers, of his warmth flooding her veins, running through her skin. She could feel that feeling all day if he’d let her. “So what’s the next card then, captain?”

That gets him back to normal. Instantly, Solo shifts, his back straightening and that casual, almost sarcastic arrogance he carries about him in the classroom slips back into place. “Ah, I’m so glad you asked,” he says, then he looks down at the card. “The most common place for hurricanes to form is…?”

Christ, he really is giving her all the easy ones, isn’t he? They did shuffle the cards before they started, so maybe there’s more to it than that, but she’s certain she’s not that smart. “That’s the Western Pacific. Very, very common out there.”

A satisfied grin blossoms on his lips. “Most of my students would’ve said off the coast of Northern Africa.”

“Most of your students would be wrong.”

Deep, rumbling laughter shakes his chest, reverberating in hers as she watches him sit back in his chair. “You’ve gotten most of these right, though,” he says when he’s calmed down, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on the desk. “I don’t think you’ll have any issues with tomorrow’s test.”

Relief floods her system as she slumps forward. “Oh thank god.”

“I’m always happy to help.”

“Maybe I can help you, too. You said you had to work on some Urban Planning stuff?”

Ben shakes his head. “Unfortunately not. My stuff’s a project not a test. I have to work on some water pipeline stuff. Pretty boring, but hey, comes with the territory.”

“I thought you were into meteorology.”

“Yeah, but I have to take this as a prerequisite for this other class I’m taking next semester. Assuming I pass, I can graduate next fall.” She has to admit, she’s impressed. It must show on her face, too, for he laughs as he slides the stack of cards back over to her side of the table. “And then it’s right into the PhD program for me.”

“That’s still impressive.”

“I guess, it’s going to pay the bills, hopefully.”

Rey manages a small smile, wanting to ask him a million questions about his hopes, dreams, and plans for the future, but then the intercom crackles overhead, and she can sense the spell is about to be broken. “Oh no.”

_“Attention students, the library will be closing in ten minutes. Please bring all projects to a stopping point and make your way to the exits at this time.”_

Groans leave them both, their eyes drifting toward the storm that’s still raging outside. The wind and the rain haven’t let up, and lightning only seems to be getting more intense as the time goes on, striking several times a minute. They’re not getting out of this easily—or rather, _she_ isn’t. She just has a bike. He’s probably going to be fine, he’s got a car, doesn’t he?

Looking back at him, she sighs. “I don’t know if you pray, but even if you don’t, pray for me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know if I told you, but I have only a bike and nothing else to get me the entire two miles back to my apartment.”

Another wince, then he looks at the storm, both of them shivering slightly at the roll of another clap of thunder. “Where do you live?”

“Off Jakku Street.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That road’s probably flooded to high hell right now. You’re at the bottom of a hill, there’s no way you’re getting home.”

He’s right, she knows he is, and he doesn’t seem too happy to be right either, more scared, actually. But what could he possibly be scared of? He has nothing to fear. He isn’t the one who has to get home in the storm, she is. “Yeah, I know. I think I might hide off in the south library bathrooms. I’ve done it before when I couldn’t get home for the night.”

Eyebrows rising in alarm, Ben shakes his head. “No, no, I can’t let you do that. I’ve got a house barely a mile from here, if the roads aren’t flooded we can probably make it.”

Now her eyebrows are headed for her hairline. “I can’t stay with you, people would talk, you’d be accused of—”

“I know, but… I have a guest room it’s not like anything crazy would happen, we’d just—” He gestures vaguely. “I just don’t want you to have to spend the night cramped up in some bathroom.”

“You’re sure it’s all right?”

“What could happen?” he asks, and he does so in such an innocent manner that it’s hard to think anything bad can come of it. She’s fairly certain the thought of anything going wrong, or anything happening that shouldn’t happen between a professor and his student, hasn’t even crossed his mind.

It’s because of this that she gives him a nod, breathing deeply as she gives him her verbal answer, “Okay.” And together, the two of them leave the library, heading out into the dark, wet storm and the unknown that waits beyond.


	2. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this would only be two chapters but it became apparent fairly early on in writing this that at least one more part was needed so hopefully the next update will be the last.

At two in the morning, Rey leaves the university library with Professor Solo. By the time three in the morning rolls around, he has his tongue buried deep in her cunt, licking long, deep strokes that make her see stars.

Once he has her pants off, he waits for a moment with the patience of a saint until the next strike of lightning. In that fraction of a second that follows, he looks at her almost reverently, as if he’s found his destiny, seen something he’s been searching for his whole life.

And all because she’s naked in his bed.

The reverence fades quickly into hunger, but like the rest of what he’s done to her, he has patience with this, too. His fingers gingerly brush her thighs, sweeping up slowly, hesitantly, the way only one who cannot see moves in the dark, moving forth until they grip the uppermost part of each leg. Shivers run down her spine as she realizes what he intends to do, where he’s going, and even as he settles himself between her legs, even as he places them on his shoulders, she still cannot fathom the concept

It isn’t until the first kiss he gives against the soft skin of her inner thigh, right above a blue vein she sometimes traces the outline of, that she really understands. He’s going down on her, he’s about to go down on her, and _god_ it’s been so long since the last time anyone did this for her she can’t remember their name, but she thinks she likes this. Does she?

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over her entrance as she shivers beneath him. It’s not cold, surprisingly, in spite of a lack of power or heat to the house. Somehow, he’s keeping her warm, maybe through body heat or maybe because her heart is pounding so fast she has no chance in hell to be cold. “ _Please_.”

She’s never heard a man plead like this before. It’s just one word he’s spoken to her, but she’s already falling apart.

This is the story of how she dies, she’s certain.

In spite of her inability to think, she somehow manages to tell him something. “Do it.” A breathless pant leaves her. “God, please—”

He does it before she can get another word out. A loud, obscene moan leaves her in time with the next thunderclap as he licks a firm, broad stripe from her entrance to her clit. Her thighs tighten their grip on his shoulders, her heels digging into his back as he does it again, repeating the motion until her hands take his hair into fists, his name the only thing she’s capable of saying when he sucks her clit between his lips.

If she doesn’t control herself, she’s going to come too early, and she wants to enjoy this, wants to draw it out for as long as she possibly can. There’s no telling when they’ll be back here again, when she’ll be able to feel him like this for a second time or more.

This has to last, and she’s sure he has other plans after this, that they’ll do more than this and she’ll be able to reciprocate somehow, but she wants to commit every detail of him to memory.

His lips are soft even when they’re pressed against her cunt, giving her everything he has as his nose rubs against her clit. It’s making her mind melt into mush, but she loves it, she lives for it, she’s shouting for it as if they’re trying to get their voices to echo off into some valley not huddled up in his old house.

Eventually, he grows tired of it, though, she can see it in his eyes with the next strike of lightning. He’s entertained by her efforts not to come harder than she ever has on his face, but she knows that’s exactly what he wants. “Come for me, Rey,” he whispers, and _god_ does it feel good when she does.

She’s not sure what makes her come so hard she sees stars; some combination of the complete illicitness of their affair, the dark of the storm, the thrill of the lightning flashes, or perhaps his skill at oral—but she does. No sound leaves her mouth. At this point, she’s simply too choked up to even try making a sound, he’s stolen all of them completely on his tongue, lapped them all up like they were his for the taking.

 _Maybe they were,_ she thinks as he strokes her through the aftershocks. _Maybe they fucking were._

*

The moment they emerge out of the library and head into the parking lot, they’re soaked through. Rain is coming down so hard it’s impossible to see anything, even the cars closest to them, until her professor hits the unlock button on his car keys.

When the lights flash, it’s a literal beacon in the night.

Before she knows it, his dripping wet hand is wrapping around hers, and she’s being tugged forth into the darkness, both of them running fast enough to kick up puddles that only soak them further as they make a mad dash toward his car. He flashes the lights one more time as they approach, then shouts over the rain, “Get to the other side!”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. Rey bolts for the passenger side door, shielding her eyes from the pelting drops as best she can before she reaches the sleek, black door, and throws it open. The rain is no less loud when she gets inside the car, but she’s significantly warmer than she was running through it. Outside the car, it’s freezing, and even now as her savior gets in and turns on the heat, she’s shivering.

They both are, actually.

Ben’s hands are trembling as he presses the start button, then struggles to put on his seatbelt, a full-body shudder running through him as he looks at her. “ _Fuck,_ that was intense.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“You okay?”

“I’m a little cold.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They both manage a little giggle at this, then he puts the car in reverse, and backs out of the space. “I have a garage, so you don’t have to worry about getting wet again.”

She manages a nod, then he pulls out onto the street, both of them still shivering in their respective seats. “God, my clothes are fucking dripping.”

“So are mine. You can use my dryer if you want,” he says casually, as if he hasn’t realized what she’d have to do in order to use his dryer. They’ve pushed a lot of boundaries tonight but she’s pretty sure she’s not allowed to strip naked in her professor’s house while they ride out this storm. That’s probably a touch too far.

Shaking her head, she laughs. “Professor, I don’t think that’d be wise. I’ll just lose a few layers and let the rest be damp.”

“Fair point. I didn’t even think, I’m sorry,” he replies, then he shrugs as they come upon a light. “I was just running through the usual list of things you do when this kind of thing happens, you know?”

“No, no, I get it, but we’ve got to be careful.”

He looks at her then, and she looks back, watching his face as he studies her in the low, red light. A stray water droplet falls from a loose strand of hair in his face onto his cheek like a teardrop and she finds herself wanting to wipe it away. She thinks back on their moment in the library, how their hands had connected, how their eyes had met—and maybe they never stood a chance anyway.

This night is going to end one way, she realizes as her eyes fall to his red, full lips, then they flicker back up to his. All it’s going to take is one little spark, one wrong move—and though she wasn’t sure at first, she now knows she wants this to happen, she _needs_ it to happen.

The light turns green, and Ben accelerates down the road, thunder rumbling in time with his engine as they drive on into hell together.

*

He’s kissing her now, covering her naked body with his—she thinks he might still be wearing pants, she’s not sure—as his tongue sweeps into her mouth, his hands brushing her hair aside so that he can kiss her fiercely. It’s the most intense kiss she’s ever experienced, the most surreal thing she’s ever felt.

One of his hands comes up to rest on her chest, his fingers brushing against the base of her throat as her head tilts back into his pillow, soft little swears leaving her as she tastes herself on his lips. Each kiss lights another fire inside of her, making her head spin as she holds him close to her.

There’s something right about kissing him, even as forbidden as it is. His mouth is made for hers, his body, though his frame is much larger, fits with hers like the second piece of a puzzle. They’ve crossed so many lines, broken so many rules, done so many things they aren’t supposed to, but none of them feel like a crime, not the way a crime is supposed to feel. She should feel dirty, filthy, wrong, but she feels none of those things.

She just feels like everything has come together, like she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

Ben pulls away, his still-damp hair falling into both of their faces like a curtain as he looks down at her, waiting patiently for the next lightning strike. “Beautiful,” he whispers, his fingers drifting down from her throat to her breasts, her nipples hardening again under his touch. “So beautiful.”

His name falls helplessly from her lips as he kisses her neck, his lips peppering kisses all along the side until they reach the point where her pulse is hammering against her skin. It’s never beat this fast. Not once, not ever. All of this is because of him, because he’s pressing featherlight little touches against her, because he’s now sucking her skin into his mouth, leaving a mark on her throat she knows she’s going to have to cover up in the morning.

So be it, she’ll just zip up her jacket all the way to the top when she goes to class. And she’ll avoid telling her friends about it. She has to avoid telling her friends about it.

There’s no other choice.

“You taste incredible,” he whispers against her neck, then he kisses her collarbone. “So good.”

“Aren’t you going to let me return the favor, professor?” Her voice is breathless, she’s barely able to get the words out, but somehow she does.

He quivers in her arms, but nods, then he pushes off of her, and she can hear the sound of fabric rustling as he sits back on the mattress. Soft little grunts fill the air, then he’s back, crawling over her and between her thighs as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him back to her in another kiss.

Now he’s naked, she can tell, he’s shucked his pants and boxers somewhere into hell and she’s grateful for it. As her legs wrap around his hips, her heels dig into the bare skin of his ass, causing him to moan quietly as he settles over her. “Rey…”

“Please fuck me, Ben.” She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Please.”

Nodding, he shifts, reaching past her for something off to the side. A drawer slides open, and with another lightning strike, she can see him pulling a purple foil packet from it, the metallic sheen of the wrapping shining for a split-second before he’s thrust into darkness again. “Gotta be smart about this.”

“I’m on birth control.”

“Still. I’m not taking any chances,” he says, then with his free hand, he caresses her cheek.

Her heart stops. “Th-thank you.”

“I want to be careful with you, you mean something.”

She can barely think about what that means as he takes the packet between his teeth, and tears it open, pulling the little latex circle out before he slides it over the tip of his already erect cock. At least, she presumes that’s what he does. It sounds like what he’s doing and his silhouette seems to indicate as such, but it’s so damn dark she can’t tell.

Eventually, his attention is back on her, his dark eyes briefly visible in another flash, the rain roaring outside growing louder in her ears as he lowers himself down to her. He begins to press inside of her with the next rumble of thunder, the sound covering the gasp she gives in response as he begins to fill her inch by inch, and they cross the only boundary they have yet to cross.

*

They’re both shivering as they walk through the door. Ben sets his car keys down and immediately begins removing his sopping wet jacket. Every drop of water that hits the floor echoes in the large, cavernous space, then as he flicks the lights on, her jaw drops. “Whoa.”

His house is fucking enormous. She’d caught a glimpse of it when they were riding up his driveway, but she hadn’t really grasped the size of it. The house is old, clearly one of the historic homes that only old money can buy, making her question everything she knows about her geography professor. No masters student can afford a house like this.

Not even one that has his job.

Pointing to the high arching wooden structures lining the entryway, she stares at him. “How do you—?”

“Pay for this? It’s my parents’ place. They don’t use it and when I told them I’d gotten a job at the university, they told me I could have the keys.” His cheeks flush a little, then he gestures toward her. “Can I take your coat?”

Looking down at her flimsy little jacket, she rolls her eyes. “This is not a coat.”

He shrugs. “It’s just what you say, right?” he asks, then she laughs, peeling the sopping fabric from her shoulders before she hands it to him. “Thanks.”

“What a gentleman,” she teases, then she sets her backpack on another hanger on the rack lining his wall. “God, I hope none of my books are ruined.”

“Do you want to take them out? If they’re wet we can dry them on my kitchen table. I have towels I could put down.”

Frowning, she pats the bag, feeling for any signs that the water leaked into the compartments, but the bag doesn’t seem to be anything beyond certifiably damp. It might just be fine. Giving it a pat, she shakes her head, a flurry of water droplets spraying everywhere. “I don’t think my backpack needs anything, but we certainly do.”

Ben’s eyes go wide, then he holds up a finger. “Just a second,” he says, then he presses the toes of one foot to the heel of another, pulling off his shoes before he makes his way over to a nearby closet. It takes all of her strength not to giggle at the wet footprints his socks leave behind, and as he pulls out a crisp, white towel, she’s still smiling as he hands it to her. “What?”

“Nothing, just… your socks. They left footprints.”

He looks down, then winces. “Ah, that, right.” Looking at her, he tilts his head up. “You should probably take yours off, too.”

Taking the towel from his hand, she wraps it around her shoulders, unzipping her boots before she sets them down by his, and slips off her socks. Once her feet are free, she takes the towel and rubs it furiously over her body until it is soaked and she is the one who’s mildly damp. Ben follows suit, both of them rubbing their arms, their legs, their hair until they look like messes but they’re significantly more comfortable.

Wrapping the towel around her shoulders once more, she steps further into the house. “God, this place is beautiful,” she breathes, doing a spin as she walks into his living room, taking in the dark color of the furniture, the midnight blue of the curtains, the way she can only see the color when the room becomes lit up by lightning. His house lights aren’t enough to do it justice. “You really get to come home to this every night?”

His cheeks flush pink all over again. “It’s nice, yeah. Sorry, it’s a bit much.”

“No, it’s fantastic. Better than spending a night in the library.”

They both laugh at this, then he bites his lip, hesitating for a moment before he speaks again, “I could show you around, if you want.”

For some reason, she hesitates, too. Actually, she knows why. She’d figured out earlier in the car that this was where they were going to be headed tonight, that they’d cross the line they’ve been toeing, but it’s one thing to know it and another for this to happen.

She thinks about how the light had turned green earlier, how she’d realized she needed this, and she knows she’s ready for it. A smile blossoms on her face, then she gives him a nod. “Please, I want to see everything.”

The corners of his mouth tilt upward, and her heart does a little flutter in her chest as she lets him guide her into the house, the two of them walking right over the line together as the storm rages on. Overhead, the lights flicker, threatening to go out at any minute and plunge them into darkness.

She knows the second that happens, they’ll have passed the point of no return, there will be no going back, and if she’s being honest, that’s precisely what she wants to happen.


	3. The Fog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the least edited thing I've ever written I'm so sorry I just wanted to hit post

There is no feeling so debauched, so utterly depraved and wild as being fucked into a mattress by her professor. A bead of sweat is already forming on her brow, her body is a mess, her mind is reeling as he touches places inside of her that she’s never been able to reach with her fingers. His cock fills her completely, fitting inside of her as if it had been tailor made.

But it’s not his cock which is driving her crazy. It’s the way he’s kissing her neck, his lips sending her nerve endings into a frenzy as her fingers clutch fistfuls of his hair, holding him close. All she can think is his name, shouting it beneath every thunderclap as he thrusts into her again and again.

A soft whimper vibrates against her neck, then he pulls back, kissing her lips as he tilts her head back into the pillow. “You feel so good, Rey,” he moans against her lips, causing her to cry out wordlessly as he gives a particularly deep thrust. “So good.”

All she can do is swear profusely as he kisses her again. She feels as if she’s on the edge, she’s so close, and while this angle is nice, it’s not enough. Her body is yelling at her. It is begging, screaming for her to come now, but she can’t do it like this. Something needs to change, and she wants to see him the way he’s seeing her.

A grin tilts the corners of her mouth, then her legs tighten their hold on him, then she twists her hips, flipping them over so that he’s the one on the bottom. Shock fills his face as she pulls back, admiring her work as she takes in his kiss swollen lips in the flickering light of a lightning bolt. It’s fast, too fast for her to really appreciate him, but she doesn’t just need her eyes to see.

Curiosity taking over, she runs her hands up his chest, tracing the outline of his clavicle before she goes up and up and up toward his jaw. Already she can feel that it’s slack, that he is stunned by what she’s just done. His lips are parted and wet, his body tense with expectation, his breathing has stopped, but she knows his eyes are wide. She can feel him staring at her in awe. “I need…”

“What do you need?” he asks, and _fuck_ , his voice has never been so deep. “Tell me, Rey.”

“I need to come.”

His breathing shudders. “Then come. Come for me, Rey.”

That’s all the incentive she needs to move, to begin riding him with the same intensity in which he’d been fucking her a minute prior. His reaction is instant and priceless, his head falling back into the pillow as he shouts her name over the sound of the pouring rain, but he never looks away. She can’t see, but she knows he’s looking at her even if he can’t see her either.

Lightning flashes and their eyes meet, their gaze intense and yet completely lost. She doesn’t know what’s going on in his mind, but he’s staring at her as if she’s the answer to every question he’s ever asked, as if he cares for her and this is more than just some hookup for him.

The realization is startling, and it sends shivers down her spine as she lays her hands on his chest, moaning his name as she takes him a little deeper inside of her. There is a spark between them, she knows. Both of them felt it in the library when they touched hands, but there’s more than that—much more. It’s been hidden in every conversation they’ve had, in the way he listens to her arguments and counterpoints in class, the way he hangs on her every word when she speaks, and the way she does the exact same things to him.

This isn’t just a hookup. One perfectly timed flash of lightning makes it obvious, and one sweet look confirms it even before he places his hands at her hips, his fingers digging into the firm roundness of her ass as she runs her fingernails down his chest. It’ll leave a mark in the morning, but they’ve both marked one another to filth enough already, laying claim to not only each other’s bodies, but their souls.

“Come for me, Rey,” he says one last time, his voice full of reverence and adoration, and it’s so deep it strikes the very bottom of the pit in her soul.

She comes with a shout louder than the storm could ever hope to be, her back arching as she rides him through it. A vague part of her is aware that he falls over the edge after her, feels warmth flood her even through the condom he’s put on, but she’s too lost in her own mind, her own bliss, to notice.

This feels like floating, like she’s adrift in the ocean, warm and lit by sunlight. She has no concept of reality or where she is, all she knows is that when she collapses, it’s the most comforted she’s ever felt. Arms envelop her in a blissful heat, lips kiss the sweat from her temple, and his body shelters hers, rolling them onto their sides as he slides out of her, but she doesn’t find herself longing to be filled again.

All Rey needs is him, the shelter he provides, the embrace she hopes will never release her, and to know the answer to the one question now on her mind.

*

First, he shows her his kitchen. It somehow blends antique and modern themes, sculpted mahogany lining the cabinets, whose contents are visible through glass windows. Their knobs are gold in color, and they shine as if they’ve never seen a speck of dust in their life.

His countertops are granite, likely made at the quarry uptown, and they’re cool to the touch as she runs a hand over the centerpiece. Ben doesn’t find his kitchen as cool as she does, but he’s not the one who needs to be impressed. She doesn’t need to be either, but she’s enjoying herself. It’s not everyday she gets to see the home of her professor, and she’s always curious as to how people like him live, what goes on when they’re not in the classroom.

Once they’re done with the kitchen, he brings her into another room, the furniture similar except for a lack of counters. This room has a single, large desk at the center of the back wall, a laptop computer waiting patiently for him to return to it later. The walls, however are the most striking part. They’re lined with a multitude of photographs, and for a moment, she thinks her professor might be the sentimental sort, but only a few seem to be of family members.

Every other picture is of a storm, of a vicious and violent force of nature. Some of them contain Ben, others are only of a twister, of a hurricane blowing a palm tree from its roots, or even a wildfire claiming victory over an unsuspecting cabin.

She has to admit, she’s impressed. In her time sitting in his lecture hall, she’s heard his stories of what he’s seen in his travels, but she never imagined anything like this. “Did you take all these?”

“Some of them,” he admits, a pink flush coating his cheeks as he comes to stand by her side. “I wanted to document everything I’ve seen.”

Humming her acknowledgment, Rey points to an image of a thick, black twister. “What’s this one?”

“The 2017 Coruscant tornado. That was nearly an EF-five. It would’ve been if the damage path impacted downtown, but they got lucky.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, it was an intense day.”

“And you were there?”

He nods. “Gathering data. Nearly got hit myself, but… god what a sight.”

It’s something she can only imagine. Being up close and personal with a storm that has been likened to the finger of god must be a harrowing ordeal, one she can barely fathom the scale of. “Your life sounds so interesting.”

All he does is shrug. “Sometimes, yeah.” Then he turns away from the picture wall. “I should show you the library.”

Rey follows him, but her curiosity isn’t satisfied. “What about the storm right now? What would you call it?”

He pauses just outside the doors to the library. “A severe storm caused by a strong area of low pressure and a stalled front.”

“You sound like a weatherman.”

“I watch the weather channel way too often for my own good.”

All she can do is laugh at him as he leads her into the library, the lights flickering overhead as they go. It’s almost as if they’re threatening to go out at any minute, as if they’re going to be plunged into darkness before they get the chance to see anything further. “Do you think the power will go out?”

He looks up at the ceiling, worry creasing his brow as he lays a hand on the blurred glass door leading into his library. For a moment she can’t tell what he’s thinking, then he looks back at her, and in his eyes she can see the very real fear in them. “Probably. If it does, I’ve got candles.”

The slight tremor in his voice at the end sends one rushing through her body. Her heart starts pounding at the thought of him in candlelight, his gold-flecked eyes looking at her as though a fire is blazing in them. _Fuck,_ she’s not going to survive this night is she? The moment she’s been anticipating since she got in his car with him is nearly upon them, and she’s ready for it, but until it happens, she feels anticipation like a snake that’s coiled up.

And it’s only seconds away from striking.

*

When the glow fades, he kisses her again, rolling on top of her as he kisses her lips so sweetly she wonders how he can be real. A hand comes up to caress his cheek as he pulls back, taking a moment to look at her as lightning strikes again.

She can feel his cock already beginning to harden against her thigh. He’d discarded the condom minutes ago, his erection now bare as it rests between them, already eager for a second round. If she’s being honest, she wants it, too, but they need to talk first. They moved too quickly the last time, as magical as it was, and now she needs time to breathe, time to process all that’s happened.

As if he’s read her mind, Ben rests his forehead against hers, allowing them both a moment to breathe as he continues holding her like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched. “I want you so bad.”

“Ben—“

“I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s against the rules, but there’s only a few weeks left in the semester and–“ he cuts himself off. “Listen, please just—tell me you’ll let me do this right when it’s over.”

Blinking her surprise, she runs her fingers through his hair, using her grip to keep him pressed against her. She wants him close— _needs_ him close. “We’ve broken the rules.”

“I know.”

“I don’t care.”

“Rey, do you want to see me again? Like this? Or just…” He shakes his head. “Maybe we could go on a real date.”

That would be nice, wouldn’t it? A real date. They could get coffee and eat at a restaurant like a normal couple. Once he’s no longer her professor, there’s no fear involved. All they need is each other, and though this has only just started, though it began as a ridiculous, heat of the moment affair sparked by a single, well-timed strike of lightning, she knows it’s so much more. “I’d like that.” Then she leans up, caressing his lips with hers before sighing. “But how are we going to deal with the rest of the semester?”

“I’ve graded you the same as I’ve graded everyone else if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“So that’s why you gave me a c-minus on last week’s pop quiz.”

A low, rumbling chuckle shakes the bed, then he brushes a sweat-soaked strand of hair from her cheek. “That and you need tutoring on cloud types.”

Cheeks flooding with heat, Rey closes her eyes. “Maybe I do.” Then she lets her hands fall to his upper back. “I can’t tell if I’m going to do better or worse in your class now that I know what you look like naked.”

“Oh, I’m going to hell.”

“So am I. Maybe they’ll let us bunk together in the fire and brimstone.”

Their laughter is swallowed by another thunderclap, one that shakes the earth so violently they both cling to one another involuntarily. His embrace isn’t bruising, but it’s tense with worry, as if he’s suddenly afraid they’ll be swept away. “I think that may have been some cosmic sign that you’re right.”

“Mmm,” she hums, then she presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “So we don’t see each other until the semester is over?”

“Not alone, no.”

“I can do that,” she replies, her hands coming back to caress the base of his skull. “But since we still have hours before the storm ends and the sun rises, I think if we’re going to hell anyway, we should commit a few more sins.”

Ben just laughs. “I don’t believe in hell.”

“Neither do I.” Then he’s kissing her again, and whether there’s a hell or not, she knows there’s definitely some form of heaven.

*

The library is just like the rest of his house so far. It’s old, but the books provide a modern edge. Antiquities are more scarce in this room, his books clearly all newer copies given how few of them have the spines bent or paper covers missing. They’re all in pristine condition, not a page out of place, even though there must be hundreds of them in here.

A few pieces of furniture line the room. Old looking sofas sit waiting for someone to plant their ass in them for hours and read. Armchairs wait patiently for the same thing, a footrest waiting at the end of each one. The whole thing creates an inviting atmosphere. She wants to read every book on his shelves, to spend hours lost on those armchairs pretending she’s somewhere far away, somewhere in the past, present, or future off on some great adventure.

“What’s your favorite?” she asks, unsure if he even has a favorite given the unused state of his books.

“I could say the classics if I were trying to impress you,” he replies, and her heart does a little jump at that, but then he points to a shelf full of a series of colorful book spines. “But my guilty pleasure is mystery novels. Any kind. Shit from _One for the Money_ to Agatha Christie’s greatest hits.”

Not exactly what she expected of him, but she likes his answer. Most people she meets give the same five answers, but while the shelf she’s currently got her eye on is full of Dickens, Austen, Orwell, and more that haunted her high school literature classes, she knows they’re just one of the kinds of books he enjoys. “I think my favorite is _The Hunger Games._ Dark, but a good story.”

“It is a good story,” he replied, stepping closer to her as the lights flicker again with the next boom of thunder. “What was your favorite part?”

“How do you mean?”

“The best part of the story, what was it for you? The games? The violence? The plot? Or were you a fan of the romance?”

“All of them. The various parts combining to make a perfect whole.”

Humming to himself, Ben shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping a little closer to her. “We could read to pass the time, if you want.”

“If the power goes out, what’s the point?” she asks, running her hands over the ridges of the books’ spines as she walks past them. “We’ll have to find something else to do.”

“Like what?”

He’s close enough now that she can see the moles on his face with an alarming amount of clarity. She can make constellations out of them, can see every strand of hair that frames his face, and _fuck,_ she’s gone. Her brain is no longer computing anything, it’s short-circuited. “I don’t know, something.”

A conversation passes between their eyes in silence, neither of them sure what to say as the seconds tick by. Thunder rumbles overhead, the ground shaking as the lights flicker more viciously than ever before. “I could light some candles,” he says, his voice a low whisper as he steps forward, and she finds herself taking one last step back against the bookshelf, her ass pressing against the copies of Dickens novels. “So we can see.”

Outside, she catches a glimpse of a lightning bolt striking beyond the trees that surround his house. Immediately after, the lights go out, the thunder booms, shaking them so powerfully, it takes all of her restraint not to reach out to him, to take his hand in hers and pull him close. “I think you’re too late.”

“I think you’re right,” he replies, then she feels him step closer, his silhouette dark and imposing, but she doesn’t feel frightened as he steps closer, she only feels content. “Don’t be afraid, I feel it, too.”

“Ben…” And that’s all she’s capable of saying before he’s in her space, before they pass the point of no return, and he seizes her by the wrist, pinning it back against the bookshelf as his other hand comes up to caress her cheek and he kisses her.

Instantly, her free arm wraps around his shoulders, tugging him down to her so that she can kiss him more comfortably as she leans back against the bookshelf. His kiss starts a fire that burns through her body with a heat so intense she can’t fathom it, her mind is reeling, all rational thought gone in favor of taking note of how soft his lips are and the sinful nature of his kisses.

Unlike ones she’s shared in the past, this kiss finds its rhythm instantly, as if she and Ben operate on the same wavelength, their lips moving together in perfect harmony. It’s so good she can almost forget how wrong it is, how much they should not be doing this, and as his hands come down to her hips, as he lifts her into the air and presses her against the bookshelf, she knows it’s all worth it.

Lightning flashes again, and his hands grip her a little more tightly as his tongue sweeps across her lower lip, fear spiking between them for a moment before their kiss is spurred anew. They move with the storm, every clap of thunder, every fresh roar of rain, and every bolt of lightning a new beat in the song.

But their lungs won’t hold out forever. Eventually, Ben pulls back, both of them panting hard as they rest their foreheads together, still holding on for dear life as if the next thunderclap will break them apart somehow. A small laugh leaves him, then he’s kissing her again, whirling them away out of the library and into the darkness, and toward the edge of a great cliff she can’t wait to dive off of.


End file.
